a corner of the world
by thoughtswithyou
Summary: "Why move here?" "Why try to jump then?" / it's easier to hear someone in a corner than in the center / George x OC / Trigger Warnings Inside.


**A/N: Hey guys, long time no see! As you can tell this is a Canon x OC story. To be honest I actually do ship George and Angelina, but allow me indulge myself for a bit.**

 **Italicized is for flashbacks and POV changes a couple of times throughout. Ish.**

 **WARNING: Mentions of suicide and Canon x OC**

* * *

They were both sopping wet as she jams the key into the door of her apartment. It took a couple of twists and jiggling before Cecilia Mai forced the door open, ignoring the crackling of thunder that illuminated her apartment from the only window in the corner. Dropping her key on the old counter, she kicked her rain boots off, the water clinging to the rubber spilling onto the floor.

She flicked the lights on, staring at the sparseness of the room. A wooden coffee table sat front of a scarlet couch with its stuffing sticking out. In one corner was dual set of a stove and a countertop. The second corner, a bed and a wardrobe. There's only one other room in the apartment and (thank goodness) that's the bathroom.

Overall, a typical studio flat. The only thing that could really make it uniquely Cecilia's was her bookshelf, by the couch and a lamp. And even then, that's got a meager selection, considering a majority of them are actually her school textbooks.

Still, it's home.

She turned to the man besides her. His face was impassive; she doesn't know what he's thinking (she wouldn't know anyways), but of one thing she was sure of: he's soaking wet and needs somewhere to stay for the night.

"You can take the couch. I'll get you some towels."

George Weasley, ginger, pale, and numb, nodded.

* * *

 _"What the fuck are you doing?!"_

 _He looked down from the railing of the bridge. Thunder crashed and torrents of rain rang in his ears; it was a miracle he could hear her voice above it all. For one thing, from his memories of Hogwarts (that don't include_ _ **him**_ _and George did everything with him), he vaguely recalled her voice being softer. But he glared at her and shouted back because what did a fellow classmate he could barely remember know about loss anyways?_

 _"Just leave me alone, dammit!"_

 _Cecilia shrank from his anger before bouncing back. She leaned over the railing, craning her neck to look up at him. "No! Not until you tell what the hell you're doing!"_

 _"That, is none of your business!" He growled, heart heavy. It hurt to even breathe._

 _"You're about to jump off a bridge!" She snapped back. "That's kind of important!"_

 _"Does it even matter?" He snarled, a sob stuck in his throat. " He's gone. I can't take it anymore."_

 _The gears in her head churned for context and then it hit her like a bludger. "Fred. You miss him."_

 _George scoffed. "No, I'm talking about good old Tom Riddle." Did that statement piss him off more than anything else? He didn't know for sure. "He was my twin- how could I not?"_

 _Cecilia opened her mouth as if to say something, but nothing came out. Just as he thought, she couldn't counter that. He shook his head, defeated and faced her while haphazardly balanced on the barrier. "I can't do it anymore, Cecilia. It's too hard, without him."_

 _"What about your family?"_

 _"They'll move on," he said, voice bitter. "It should've been me that night. Everything would be better off that way. They would be too."_

 _"I don't think they'd see that way," Cecilia said carefully. "If anything, they'd be just upset if it was you."_

 _"You'd be surprised, Cecilia," he said darkly. "We were Fred-and-George, the Weasley Twins. No one wants half of a whole, much less the lesser half."_

 _"Just because you guys are twins doesn't make you any less of a person, George."_

 _"Am I though?" He shook his head, continuing in a battered voice. "Why am I even telling you this? You barely know me."_

 _She didn't have an answer to that so the rain and the thunder filled in the silence for her. But then she looked up and for the first time he realized her eyes aren't dark brown._

 _They're amber. And they glint with what he could only guess to be determination._

 _"You're right, George, I don't," Cecilia admitted, voice barely audible above the cacophony of the storm. "But that doesn't mean I'm can let you do this."_

 _He sighed. "You can't help me, Cecilia."_

 _"Maybe not in the long run," she admitted. "But right now, I can stop you from doing something very stupid." A soft smile. She held a hand out. "Come down, George. It's cold, I'm wet and very tired and I think what we both could use is some tea."_

 _He hesitated, tempted by her offer. Six months without Fred had worn him down far enough. It's bad enough that his mum still couldn't look at him without crying, bad enough his friends and his family still called him Fred by accident, bad enough that he still could not look at himself in the mirror without breaking down (breaking it). How else would he have gotten to this point?_

 _But then he sees her. A stranger, an acquaintance, but there's something almost comforting in her presence. She barely knows him, barely understands the dull pain in his heart and yet she's still standing here, offering a shoulder to lean on, a chance at relief._

 _His fingers barely grazed hers when suddenly the thunder rumbled again and he looked up, lightning flashing in his eyes. For a moment, he's blinded, but then he lost his balance and the last thing he remembered seeing while falling and falling, was Cecilia, terrified._

 _"GEORGE!"_

* * *

"Where'd you get this place?" He asked as she stepped out of the bathroom with one (or two) towels.

She's still soaked to the bone, but the question stopped in her tracks. "Oh, you do talk. That's good to hear."

He glared at her half-heartedly as she muttered an apology and tossed him both towels. They landed just out of his reach, forcing him to actually get off the couch to pick them up. As he dried himself off, she headed for the dresser and pulled out a mismatched set of t-shirt and shorts.

She tossed those at him too and he managed to catch them, this time.

"My brother's clothes," Cecilia explained simply when he raised a brow in question. "He stays here sometimes."

She didn't wait for him to react because she continued rummaging through her dresser for some more clothing. He praised himself for enough decency to look away when she pulled out a clean pair of underclothing, walked into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. He heard the sound of water running and that was his sign to change clothes while she's not in front of him.

By the time she's done, George was still rubbing the water out of his hair. She closed the door behind her, dressed in a similar fashion, and leaned against the doorframe, watching him.

He paused in his actions and pulled the towel off his head. "What?"

She looked away. "Nothing." She walked towards the stove and after setting a tea kettle there, she rummaged through one of the cabins for a tea bag. She glanced at his pile of wet clothes. "That'll have to go in the dryer."

He raised a brow. "Wouldn't it be faster to just to use a drying charm?"

She shook her head. "Don't feel like using magic. You scared me back there," she said as she continued looking through her cabinet for tea bags. "Falling off the bridge like that."

He snorted, rubbing the back of his head. His hair was still wet from the combination of the storm. "Well, that wasn't exactly how I planned on going."

Her back was turned towards him, but he didn't miss the way her hands wavered for a split second in trepidation. "I sure hope so." Turning the stove on, she glided over to the counter and after turning around, she braced herself against the ledge and gazed at him solemnly. "Were you serious about jumping?"

If he's honest, he didn't know the answer anymore. Yes. No. These last few hours have been a blur to him and the most he could recall is the rain, the thunder, missing Fred (more than usual), loving Fred, and now Cecilia's worried face. The need to see his twin again was still there, but he's too exhausted now to even consider the acting on that impulse.

"You never answered my question," he said suddenly. George gets an unamused look from his host and he put his hands up in defense. "I'm serious! You never said how you got this place. Or why."

She raised a brow. "I don't see you answering my question."

"Well I asked first."

If his petulance irked her, he knew, not by the way she talked, but by the way she turned sharply towards the stove, where the water in the tea kettle reached the boiling point. He grinned or least makes some gesture resembling a smile- she knew he's right, there.

"A friend of my Dad knew the landlord. I got it for real cheap." Two cups. She poured water into both cups and dropped a tea bag in one. "Green Tea or Earl Grey?"

"Earl Grey. Why move here though?"

She said nothing at first and set the tea kettle back on the stove. He got a feeling he must have hit a sensitive nerve, but he's a Weasley and a former Gryffindor. He doesn't take back words.

She finally looked at him, haunted. "Why try to jump then?"

That shut him up real quick.

* * *

 _He hit the pavement with a 'thump' and he groaned. His head was spinning, everything was spinning and the only thing he could register at the moment is the storm swirling around him. George was pretty sure he's hit his head head and it'll probably leave him with a concussion, but did it matter at this point?_

 _He almost drowned, but he's alive._

 _But Fred is still gone and he is alone._

 _George panted heavily, forced to look up at the sky. The clouds have covered the sky and with the rain pouring like torrents, the storm showed no sign of letting up any time soon. He sighed and covered his eyes with an arm._

 _Something shook him back to awareness. Lifting his arm, George found Cecilia staring down at him with wide eyes. He could hear her labored breathes as her dark hair, drenched from the rain, created a dripping curtain around him._

 _"Are you alright?" She asked in a small voice. Considering the way he was sprawled out on the bridge with no resistance, if she didn't catch him, she would have mostly likely thought he was dead._

 _Lucky for her, he wasn't._

 _He said nothing, coughing out the rain that fell into his mouth. A painful act, but now she knew he wasn't choking. "Oh thank god." She reached over to move a ginger strand from his forehead._

 _Why was she relieved? This wasn't what he wanted. Glaring up at her, he grabbeds her wrist._ _ **I didn't need a savior.**_

 _Cecilia flinched beneath his glare. He could see the way she hesitated, unsure of what to do. What he wanted her to do most was leave him alone. Leave him to his misery, to the darkness the war, to the world Fred has left him to live in._

 _But she didn't. Instead, Cecilia pulled her arm out of his grip and glared back._ _ **Well tough shit.**_

 _Their 'fight' only ended because he sneezed and she sighed, looking up at the never-ending rain. "You need to get out of this rain. We both do." Standing, Cecilia held a hand out for him. "C'mon. My place is nearby."_

 _Suddenly numb and too exhausted to protest, George took her hand._

* * *

The rest of night passes by quietly. Between the tea, Cecilia, her books, and his distaste for reading in general, there wasn't much for George to do. If this had been him before the war, he would have complained otherwise, or at the least tried to make some kind of fun. But he wasn't. He was just George Weasley now and just George Weasley was perfectly fine sleeping (sulking) on her couch.

Cecilia Mai seemed perfectly fine with that too, being preoccupied with her own book. And though he was tired and didn't want to think at all, he couldn't help but steal glances over his shoulder. Are her nights always like this? Quiet and alone? He's familiar with those kinds of nights in his own shop.

Those nights are usually the worst, but that's why his family, Ron and Ginny, Bill and Fleur, Mum and Dad, and even Percy and Charlie are there. That's why his family drags him out of the shop for Burrow get-togethers. Because they know it's better to suffer together than alone. And though he would never admit to it, he's grateful for their efforts. It still hurt, everyday, but they're trying to move forward.

So why couldn't he?

If she noticed him stealing glances from across the room, she pretended not to notice. And he's perfectly fine with that, sitting in companionable silence for the rest of the night.

The next morning, he left her apartment well before she woke up, strangely well rested. His tea went cold by then, but he did gather his clothes from the laundry room downstairs and placed the rest of her load into a basket. As he left the apartment complex, he looked down and realized he was still wearing her brother's clothing.

At this point it would be too awkward to go back and return them so he decided he'll hand them back to her the next time she popped by the shop.

When he apparated back to the Burrow, he's greeted with a flurry of hugs, slaps on the back, and even a punch in the arm from Ginny. He winced, especially when his mum wrapped him in a tight hug as the memories of how he left home last night, throat hoarse, face red, and a threat to end it all, returned.

No wonder his family reacted that way.

"I'm alright," he murmured, once his mother released him. "I walked around Muggle London for a bit."

"In that rainstorm last night?" Molly Weasley said incredulous. Her brow furrows and suddenly he's fifteen again, remembering exactly why Weasley women are forces to reckon with. "What were you thinking George Fabian Weasley? You could've caught a cold! We looked everywhere for you!"

"I know. I stayed at a friend's place for the night."

The explanation sated his mum's worries, considering he'd rather not have to explain exactly how and why Cecilia offered her place for the night. However, it didn't satisfy Ginny's curiosity.

"So who exactly was this 'friend' of yours?" Ginny asked, casually taking a seat on his bed. "Someone we've met before?"

He shook his head. "Someone I met outside of Hogwarts. Really, is it so hard to believe I have a social life anymore?"

She frowned, hesitating to speak at first. "Well considering you now have a social life compared to a troll's, the fact we contacted Lee and Angelina, and all your other friends from school, and that Fred has never mentioned being friends with anyone outside of Hogwarts, yes."

There was a dull pang in his chest, hearing his twin's name. Maybe this is why Ginny had a second thoughts about pushing for elaboration. "Does it really matter?"

She contemplated and then gave him a mischievous look. "Since it's you, yes."

He sighed, exasperated and turning back to his work sprawled over the tiny desk, scratches the back of his head. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"Nope."

Another sigh. "Cecilia Mai. I bumped into her last night- she offered her couch."

Ginny punched him in the shoulder. He yelped and glared right back. "What?"

"That's not 'someone from outside of Hogwarts'."

"I know that. She was in the year below me, right?"

Ginny rolled her eyes again and he groaned, wondering what he said this time to warrant that. "No. She was in Ron's year. Let me guess, you also forgot that she was in Gryffindor too."

* * *

As it turned out, George actually didn't remember as much about Cecilia as he thought he did. Ginny berated him for that, saying he was 'some friend' for not knowing even what house she was in. Still, she refreshed his memory on his supposed savior.

Cecilia Mai. Ron and Ginny's year because she decided to retake her seventh year. Vietnamese. Not related to Cho Chang. Half blood. Gryffindor. Her best friends are Dean Thomas and an alumni Slytherin. Soft-spoken but brave. Bookworm. Sincere. A member of Dumbledore's Army. One of the many Gryffindors who outright protested against the Carrows. Fought in the Battle of Hogwarts and three months into her eighth year, disappeared off the radar. Not even Dean knew where she went.

And now, apparently living in the muggle world.

* * *

 **A/N: And we're done for now! Thank you so much for reading and stay on the look out for part two!**


End file.
